


listen well love, for it's pitch dark down here

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Dialogue, Episode: s01e12 Sports Medicine, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26598244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: When Wilson reveals he's going to dinner with Stacy, House can't help but react differently.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 117
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020





	listen well love, for it's pitch dark down here

**Author's Note:**

> **fffc:** truck
> 
> stacy traumafic yet Again. 
> 
> enjoy!

House wants one simple thing— to see monster trucks with Wilson. He got amazing tickets, and by all means they should be able to go together. A _date_ , perhaps, as he says in his head over and over, although he refuses to push the needle that far, considering Wilson is still married to Julie and whatnot. That ship will sail sooner or later, though.

At first, he's heartbroken when he says he has an oncology dinner, but that's fair. They're busy men with busy jobs and stupid conferences which Wilson cares a lot more about than he does. But then Cameron drops that he got out of it two weeks ago, and now he's more upset and confused than anything else. He must still have some commitment, but he refuses to tell him. What on Earth could it be?

He lets out a sigh and bickers with Wilson for a few seconds before going to the matter at hand. 

"Course, why should I trust someone who lies about what he's doing Friday night?" He turns to look at him, tries to gauge a response out of him. Wilson looks at him, blankly, although there's a hint of guilt in his eyes. "Question is, _what_ are you really doing Friday night? Or more to the point, what could possibly be better than monster trucks?" He walks and enters Wilson's office. "Or are we breaking up?"

Wilson lets out a long suffering sigh and then follows him in. There's a long pause, an extended silence that he hates, before Wilson says, "Stacy's coming into town this weekend, we're having dinner. Just... catching up."

"I definitely had pants in here," he mumbles, looking through his duffel bag. Patients really ruin everything. He turns to Wilson, raises a brow. "Wait a second, is that Stacy the stripper? I heard she's playing Atlantic City."

Wilson regards him with a hint of worry. "No, Stacy the constitutional lawyer."

He stares, his eyes widening a modicum, and he doesn't know what to reply with. Suddenly he's smacked back into the past, into a few years ago, and he realizes that truly, Wilson still doesn't know. He's managed to hide it so very well that he doesn't have a clue. Hopefully he doesn't have a clue, at least — he'd like to think that if he realized she did all _that_ to him he would drop her like a burning iron.

"You thought I couldn't handle the news," he says. He pauses, tries not to think too much. Wilson nods, looking at the floor. "You talk to her a lot?" He turns to the bag, trying to focus on that and not on all the memories pulling at him.

"No," he replies, rather earnestly. "It's been a long time." House turns to him. "If you don't want me to see her—"

In theory, he could come clean now. He could tell him that yes, he doesn't want him to see her, because of all that happened, all that she did. All the psychological scars across his body like clockwork, from his throat to his missing muscle. 

"What is this, eighth grade?" he retorts. He wishes it was. "I'm fine."

With way too much understanding, Wilson says, "It's okay if you're upset—"

"No!" he interrupts. Something strikes at him, at his heart, clenched tight. "It's... I have no right to be upset." He does, in fact, have every right to be upset, but he doesn't want to meddle in Wilson's friendship with her. If he cancelled suddenly she'd do the math, anyway, and would be furious. And God knows what would happen then. "You two are friends. Say hi for me."

It's an all too understanding position for him to have. Too _mature_. Wilson catches wind to it, like a dog, sniffing out lies and discomfort like squirrels.

"House," he says, rather gravely. "Are you upset because of your leg, or because of something else?"

"I'm not upset," he says through his teeth.

"House."

House lets out a defeated sigh. "I'll go change pants. We can discuss this afterward."

He makes quick work of that. Now this is the part where Wilson thinks he's creating a sob story simply so he goes see monster trucks with him, or something of the sort. What a _House_ thing to do, all in all. Isn't it?

He changes pants and comes back, looks at Wilson like a startled deer. "So." He swallows. "While of course the leg part still... is bad, there's. Well, there's other things to be said about my relationship with Stacy."

Wilson looks at him, tries to look through him. "Did she—?"

He pulls a face. "Yes, I know, she couldn't have, she's a woman, I'm six feet two, I know." He rubs his scalp. "I've... She, uh. She picked up smoking after my infarction. She didn't tell me, but it was rather obvious. Over five smoke breaks were a bad sign; it meant she was upset." 

Wilson looks like he's holding his breath. "House," he tries, gently. "What did she do when she was upset?"

He sighs and looks at the floor. "Well," he starts. "Taking advantage of a cripple can be really easy. It's just, you know, hiding his pills, taking his cane. It's not hard work."

Wilson's face falls. "I'm sorry I didn't notice." 

He shakes his head. "I tried my hardest to hide it. It's not a big deal." He fiddles. "It's okay if you'd, um, still like to see her."

He snaps his head up. " _What?_ Are you crazy? I'm not going to have a friendly dinner with your rapist, House. I don't— if I knew—"

"Okay, okay," he says, holding his arms up as if in surrender. The word _rapist_ stings in his ears. "I get it." A pause. "So... monster trucks?"

Wilson smiles. "Monster trucks," he nods. He pauses for a second. "Could I... hug you, maybe?"

House considers this for one long second. He swallows. "Sure."

He immediately walks toward him and envelops him in what he considers a bone-crushing hug, like his insides are being soothed, like every scar is being kissed. He relaxes against Wilson, letting out a quiet little sigh of joy.

"Thank you," he mumbles into his neck.

They'll go see monster trucks, and Stacy will get stood up on their dinner, and Wilson knows what haunts him now. Things couldn't have gone better for him.


End file.
